What Are You Doing New Year's Eve?
by GirlInTheBlueHoodie
Summary: Oswald Cobblepot decides to see in the New Year properly - after all, it is going to be the year he makes it to the top, isn't it? But there are some New Year's traditions he's forgotten about... (oneshot)


It was bad enough having the sort of nose that enticed mockery and cruel nicknames from my classmates throughout school, but the cold weather just added insult to, well, _insults_. The harsh winds were forever biting at it until it was red raw, making my face even more unsightly.

I scowled, but quickly fixed my mood by reminding myself that, while I may never have a face that was loved by anyone but my dear mother, one day I would have a face that was respected and feared throughout Gotham. When I was the one running the city, no-one would dare mock me. My appearance, my limp – they would become trifles.

My umbrella tapped out a sharp rhythm as I walked on through the December night. The park was scattered with people and had been covered by a sharp frost; I imagine I would have found the wintery scene quite endearing had I not been so intent on getting home. It had been a long night, running various errands for Maroni, and I had had rather enough of the bitter temperature outside. I paused for a moment to check my watch – 11:38pm – and suddenly realised that in the midst of all the day's work I had forgotten it was New Year's Eve.

_That would explain why there are so many people gathering outside on such a cold evening_, I thought to myself. _They'll be waiting for the fireworks_.

Gotham's annual New Year's firework display, while not as grand as many other cities', had always been something I enjoyed. I could still recall the first time I had been allowed to stay up late enough to see them, my mother holding my hand and worrying about me catching a cold.

I stopped by a park bench as I considered staying out a little longer. There was no need for me to get any closer; I knew the view would be sufficient from the park, and it had the added benefit of being away from where the biggest crowds gathered. _Next year is the year I make it to the top_, I reasoned with myself. _It's only fair I should see it in properly_. Pulling my coat a little tighter against the wind, I perched myself on the bench and waited.

It must have been barely ten minutes from midnight when a young woman in a long, green coat walked up to the bench where I was sat, and gestured to the space beside me.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" she asked.

"No, not at all," I replied, somewhat more sharply than I meant to. I had expected – and perhaps also hoped – that the young woman would have contented herself to ignore me beyond that point, so I was surprised when I heard her speak.

"I always watch the fireworks from here, it's so much better than being crammed in with hundreds of people down near the river, especially when half of them are blind drunk," she said cheerily. When I didn't respond, she let out a small laugh.

"Sorry, forgot my manners! I'm Emily," she introduced herself, offering her hand.

Mother had always lectured me on the importance of being polite, so I shook it briefly.

"Oswald."

"Nice to meet you, Oswald," she smiled, and I realised she was one of a very limited sort of people in this city – those people who are, at their core, genuinely _good_. I wondered how she had survived this long in a place like Gotham.

"Likewise," I replied formally, forgetting that my manner was very often interpreted as strange. However, Emily let it pass without comment.

"So, any New Year's resolutions planned?" she asked. Being so unused to casual, light conversation, I took a moment to respond.

"I, well – not a New Year's resolution as such, but I'm determined for next year to get me to where I want to be."

"And where's that, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Somewhere other than at the bottom of the food chain," I answered with a trace of bitterness.

Emily laughed.

"Well, the best of luck with that," she told me sincerely. "I'm just hoping for a change," she continued. "I could never leave Gotham – it's home – but I'm tired of the same old thing. I'm looking for a new job, a new flat, and some new friends. My friends from college have all moved out of town now, I'm not especially friendly with anyone at work and I barely ever see my neighbours, so I kinda need the fresh start, y'know. I've always wanted to go into writing, actually…"

I watched Emily as she spoke, telling me about her goals for the next year. It was almost fascinating, the confidence and optimism in her voice. She was even more astounding than Jim Gordon – one of the few who believed that the city could be 'saved' – in that she seemed completely free of the downtrodden aura that clung to most of Gotham's residents. Surely, I reasoned, she must be _aware_ of the crime and corruption going on around her, but it seemed she was determined not to let it drag her into the same bleak cynicism that many people shared.

She was in the middle of laughing about the ridiculous things she would love to do if her writing career took off, when she cut herself off and grinned. She joined in with the growing chant of the others in the park: "_Ten…Nine…Eight..."_

I smiled, feeling less like they were counting down to the end of the year, but rather to what I was adamant would be the beginning of my rise to power.

"_Seven…Six…"_

I refused to shout along with everyone else, but still muttered the numbers quietly to myself.

"_Five…Four…Three…Two…One!"_

As the first firework whistled into the sky and burst into burning red sparks, I turned to wish Emily a polite 'Happy New Year'. But I was interrupted when she leaned in and kissed me. It was soft and somewhat clumsy, our cold noses bumping into each other, but it left a considerable after-effect; my cheeks turned suddenly warm, my stomach felt uneasy, and were I standing up I think I might have fallen over from dizziness. My experience with romantic affection was non-existent – my strange appearance and mannerisms had seen to that – and I was mortified that I had been left so visibly flustered.

"Sorry if I caught you off-guard," Emily smiled, looking somewhat abashed. It was difficult to tell in the orange lamplight, but she may well have been blushing. "It's supposedly good luck for the year, isn't it? Or something like that? I'd never actually done it before."

"Me neither," I admitted without really meaning to. I realised there must have been some truth to her explanation as I looked around and saw various couples kissing against the backdrop of the fireworks.

"Well, Happy New Year, Oswald." Emily looked slightly more confident this time. "It was a pleasure meeting you."

"And you," I replied, returning her smile. "Happy New Year."

"Maybe I'll see you around."

"Perhaps."

I watched as she stood up and walked away, still feeling a little confused by everything. In all truthfulness the encounter had been quite pleasant, if a little surprising, and Emily's optimism had been quite refreshing. If she had not had left so suddenly, I think I might have enjoyed a little more friendly conversation – god knows it was difficult to come by in Gotham.

After a disastrous string of high-school crushes I had completely given up on the idea of romance and all its associated perks. I'd definitely never expected to receive a spontaneous kiss from a near-stranger at midnight on New Year's Eve.

The year had certainly got off to an interesting start.

* * *

><p><em>Three weeks later.<em>

* * *

><p>"How's the New Year's resolution coming along?"<p>

I glanced up sharply from my usual staring-down-at-the-sidewalk at the sound of the voice, and found myself looking at a young woman in a long, green coat. I gave a small smile.

"I'm climbing up the food chain," I answered. "Slowly, but I'm making progress. Yourself?"

"I'm looking at some apartments, and I've got an interview for a job at a publishing house next week." Emily sounded as cheerful as she had on New Year's Eve. "But I could use a little help with the 'new friends' part. Fancy a coffee?"


End file.
